5 Senses of Severus Snape
by StarDuchess
Summary: Severus Snape has been known to Ensnare the Senses from time to time. Written for Round 2 of Snape LDWS. Rated M for mature themes. All the senses - SIGHT, TASTE, HEAR, SMELL and finally TOUCH.
1. Sight

**A/N:** Okay, I signed myself up for Round 2 of the Snape_LDWS: Ensnare the Senses! Each drabble will be posted as another chapter after the weekly challenge is over.

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter and make no money off of this. This is for fun and critical insights concerning our favorite dark wizard. Enjoy!

* * *

**Prompt: sight, portrait or photograph**

******Title: This House**  


**Word Count: 268**

**Warnings: none**

**

* * *

**

Most times Snape hated this house: the locked rooms, the dark oak paneling, the glint of tarnished silver cutlery, the mold marring the furnishings. The green curtains mocked him in their high-born Slytherin hue, even though he himself was a Slytherin - Head Slytherin, in fact - but he was a half-blood and not allowed to look upon such finery.

The oppression inside was palpable with every curve of ornate banistry, every faded tapestry. The magical lamps cast gloomy shadows around priceless antiques and the walls and ceiling were dingy from years of hurtling insults. Snape was sure the building would collapse under it's own pure-blooded pompousness.

The only reprieve from the starkness was Black's bedroom, but that was just as vile in its own way, the brief snatches he caught of it when the man himself opened and closed his door. Bright reds and yellows flung every which way, like a giant griffin had exploded in the room. Nauseating, really.

Headed past the parlor toward the next Order meeting, Snape walked a little too loudly. It caused a sash to swish open.

"Out, vile vermin. Out of my house! Traitorous abomination, you have no right to be here," shouted Walburga.

Snape sneered at the portrait. "What a pity, then, that it belongs to your traitorous first-born, whose head you blackened on the wall upstairs."

He knew it would get a rise out of her and was not disappointed when she started shrieking obscenities. Black was going to have a field day calming her down again.

His mood a little bit improved, Snape smiled inwardly. Sometimes, he liked this house.


	2. Taste

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter and make no money off of this. This is for fun and critical insights concerning our favorite dark wizard. Enjoy!

* * *

**Prompt: taste, feast or food**

******Title: Unpalatable**  


**Word Count: 460**

**Warnings: some violence**

**

* * *

**

Excitement dripped from the large gathering in Malfoy's grand hall. The massive table was ladened with savories and sweets enough to make the mouth water. Dark spirits were imbibed without restraint, and conversation was in vast supply.

"So, what d'you think we're goin' to hit first?"

"Oy, I 'ope it's a school. Get 'em feared for 'da kids!"

"Idiot! No one will be the' at night. No gov'ment build'n either. Pe'haps a hopsital tho'. Snape, you heard anyth'n?"

The Dark Lord had called for an excursion into Muggle London for just after dinner and most of Britain's Death Eaters had arrived to whet their appetite. Snape stood mingling with his colleagues. His Occlumency shields were at full capacity as he forced revulsion into the deepest cauldron of his mind.

"Although I am not privy to all of the Dark Lord's whims," he said, "I have it on sufficient authority that He means for us to instigate an assault on the entertainment district this evening."

"Oy, right, wha' fun!"

"May'haps I could get a wench or two!"

Lucius stepped around the corner. "Yes, everyone. Eat up. You will want the energy tonight." He looked smug at the prospect to prove himself before his Lord.

People ate with ravenous abandonment, anticipation running high. Snape barely touched the food afraid he wouldn't be able to keep it down. The hounds were called out for sport tonight and it was going to be brutal.

Later, to shouts and catcalls, they Apparated directly into Piccadilly Circus. Chaos reigned as wizards fired spells and screaming Muggles ran every which way. Some were hauled off for torture; others were simply killed outright. Death Eaters pillaged rows of shops and one ambitious person unleashed Fiendfyre on a museum. The Aurors would not be able to come quickly enough.

Lucky for his excuse to remain untainted for brewing, Snape did not have to participate in the gruesome tortures, but he did make himself useful in the mass destruction of property. He sneered on occasion but no delight ever entered his eyes.

"You are not having as much fun as the rest of us, Severus," Bellatrix taunted him. She tilted her head calculatingly. "One begins to wonder why."

"I am merely saving my reserve energies. Some of us have loftier aims than this wanton behavior, Bella."

"No one should have higher goals than our Lord's!" she shot back at him.

His eyes narrowed at her. "I never claimed they were, only that they were higher than _yours_."

Returning to Malfoy Manor, they all toasted and cheered each other in victory. Snape noticed Bellatrix watching him. Making sure no grimace entered his facial expression, he joined the congratulatory feasting and downed the champagne. The taste was ashes on his tongue.


	3. Hear

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter and make no money off of this. This is for fun and critical insights concerning our favorite dark wizard. Enjoy!

* * *

**Prompt: hearing, must be based on song lyrics**

******Title: His Immortal**  


**Word Count: 380**

**Warnings: major angst, AU since Severus survived Nagini's bite**

**A/N: My Immortal by Evanescence was the song I chose; was voted out this challenge**

* * *

It's mostly quiet down the endless corridors of Hogwarts' dungeons, a silence both welcome and terrifying. I have sailed the towers buffeted by howling winds and waltzed through the main halls bracketed by cacophonous squeals and laughter or shouts and jeers, but now I prowl through the darkness accompanied only by my own laborious footfalls. It is a joy to be rid of the teenage melodrama that envelops the school most of the year, yet the mind supplies its own unending noise, for the demons of the past do not let go.

I say it is good to be rid of them unless, of course, I happen upon such foolish students out of bed, either whispering conspiratorially in their sneaking endeavors or exchanging nauseatingly sloppy sounds of lips and tongues, or worse. Tonight I hear humming and quiet my steps so as not to alert them to my presence. With a menacing bellow, I delight in the shouts and gasps ripped out from their lungs.

I confiscate the Muggle iPod and send them back to their dormitories with detention horrors resounding in their cerebral cortices. Inspecting the device I ascertain it is running a musical selection, the high strains of strings and a female voice emanating from the minuscule buds. I put one to my ear and listen.

_I held your hand through all of these years_

_But you still have_

_All of me_

_I've tried so hard to tell myself that you're gone_

_But though you're still with me_

_I've been alone all along_

The wailing melody reflects my mournful existence, the lonely state that has been my lot in life. My chest constricts painfully. My eyes burn. My teeth clamp together while the rest of my muscles tremble. I will not cry. _I will not!_ It is far too late for tears.

Instead, I hurl the infernal musical kaleidoscope against the far wall. It hits with a small, unsatisfactory clink then clatters to the floor. The song plays on, a single whisper in the stillness.

Lily. Even after 30 years - 10 years since your son somehow managed to defeat the Dark Lord - you are still capable of ruining my life.


	4. Smell

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter and make no money off of this. This is for fun and critical insights concerning our favorite dark wizard. Enjoy!

* * *

**Prompt: smell, a memory**

******Title: To Seek Illusion**  


**Word Count: 315**

**Warnings: slight angst, character study**

**

* * *

**

The Houses of Hogwarts were always divided along two party lines, that of the air and that of the ground. Those of the air felt they were far superior to everyone else because they could soar above the clouds, whereas those of the ground knew they were the more important ones since they laid the foundations of society. A few individuals found themselves caught between both worlds and struggled with the duality of their existence.

Severus Snape liked the dungeons. He never minded the cold; the walls around and the earth above and below felt safe and comforting; and his beloved potions lab welcomed him home with an assorted array of smells, bitter and sour and musky. Yet, he also liked the towers. Not the idiot children in them, but he enjoyed the mountainous view; the fresh breezes that brought pine from the Forbidden Forest and salt from the sea; the airy brightness that lightened his soul; and even the deep red of the setting sun that reminded him so much of his Lily's hair, but then his thoughts turned to sorrow again as darkness descended.

He wanted to fly, like he and she had done that day in May when the flowers were blooming and end tests were still weeks away. The upper-class students were down in Hogsmeade for the weekend and the rest of their fellow classmates were lounging around the lake. Severus and Lily had slunk off behind the Quidditch pitch with their brooms and took to the sky, just loving the day and each other, the scent of ozone from the early rains heightening the experience.

He knew he could never capture those days again. It was with a heavy heart that he turned away from the windows and trekked back down to his rooms, where the soil of his den could protect him from the insubstantial dreams in the sky.


	5. Touch

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter and make no money off of this. This is for fun and critical insights concerning our favorite dark wizard. Enjoy!

* * *

**Prompt: touch, Snape's hands doing something, Veritaserum**

******Title: Release to Freedom**  


**Word Count: 345**

**Warnings: none**

**

* * *

**

Cold. All he felt was bitter cold. At least the dementors were gone, no more draining of happy memories (not that he had any to start with), but the tiny cell was still slimy and damp.

They had taken him from there after an untold number of days and deposited him in a freezing metal chair in the middle of the trial chamber. He could feel the eyes of all upon him, trepidation clawing at his insides. His hands were chained to waist and feet, and he tried flexing them to regain circulation. What bothered him most, however, was the loss of his wand. They had confiscated it upon his arrest, and he felt quite naked without it.

The head of the Wizengamot opened the trial and an Auror medi-wizard administered the Veritaserum. Ironic that the very potion he had developed to rat out falsehoods would be the very item to condemn him this day.

"Did you willingly join He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named?"

"How many people did you torture?"

"Why did you kill Albus Dumbledore?"

"For what reason did you allow the Carrows to Crucio children?"

He answered question after question, some freely, others gritting his teeth and fighting with his whole will. Those were private, but it mattered not. Eventually, the fog in his mind and the compulsion to TELL pushed him into confessing. Everything came out. Based on his own actions, he wasn't sure what the outcome would be.

Witnesses testified, including Harry Potter. Snape wasn't sure if he was glad or annoyed and, much to his horror, stated both. Potter just chuckled.

After hours of pensieve viewing and deliberation, the Esteemed Wizards and Witches of Great Britain finally cast their verdict. The heavy manacles fell from wrist and ankle, and a clerk brought out a small rectangular box. Inside was his wand. As his fingers touched the wood, warmth invaded his hand, traveled up his arm and into his soul where he reconnected with his magic. His bony digits rubbed along the shaft's length, admiring the craftsmanship and the intense reality of freedom at last.


End file.
